


Wrong Number, Right Time

by buckysinthesinbin



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: :D, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, IT IS TIME, and all of them are sad, and then fluff, brief illusions to mental health problems, bucky is tired and wants a friend, but most, for angst, it ends with fluff so you must forgive me, okay well not all of them, reader is an idiot who texts the wrong number, there are many feelings in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:29:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckysinthesinbin/pseuds/buckysinthesinbin
Summary: **'Some souls just understand each other upon meeting.'**The first thing he notices is the fact that the number is unknown, a combination of random digits glaring at him behind a glass screen. Wariness radiates from his very body as he shifts slightly under the covers, moving into a better position in case he needs to bolt.Who would have access to this number anyway? He never gives it out and the only people who do have the privilege of contacting him are those who live in the same building.With shaky fingertips he taps on the chat to read through the messages before he lets the panic flow through his veins to make him shake – who is even awake at 1am anyway.**In which instead of texting your best friend, you end up messaging the one and only James Buchanan Barnes**
Relationships: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Bucky Barnes/Reader, Bucky/You, Bucky/reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, James Barnes/ Reader, bucky x reader - Relationship, bucky x you, james "bucky" barnes x reader
Kudos: 93





	Wrong Number, Right Time

**

Bucky Barnes was prepared for many things. He was prepared for the onslaught of nightmares that would make him scream his throat raw before he fell asleep at night – although it never made it easier for him to rest. He was constantly prepared for the stupid pranks Sam would pull on him, footsteps silent against the floor whenever he entered a room that Sam was already in. He was ready to fight for something he believed and had a choice in, because for far too long he was fighting a battle he never wanted.

What he wasn’t prepared for was his phone to chime as a rapid stream of texts lit up the screen like a fireworks display - body jerking as fright crawls over his shoulders to make his head spin for a split second. One message straight after the other for several long seconds before the chiming finally seized and left a deafening silence to coat the room.

Rolling over in bed with a mild panic he snatches his phone from its place on his bedside table and squints as he unlocks the device, bright light bathing his skin in a white glow. Heart beginning to beat wildly in his chest because lets be real, with a job like this you can be expected to be called out on a mission all hours of the day.

Tapping on the message icon at the bottom of his screen the recent string of texts appear at the very top –

5 New Messages.

The first thing he notices is the fact that the number is unknown, a combination of random digits glaring at him behind a glass screen. Wariness radiates from his very body as he shifts slightly under the covers, moving into a better position in case he needs to bolt. Who would have access to this number anyway? He never gives it out and the only people who do have the privilege of contacting him are those who live in the same building.

With shaky fingertips he taps on the chat to read through the messages before he lets the panic flow through his veins to make him shake – who is even awake at 1am anyway.

OMG have you seen this little fur ball????  
LOOK AT THE KITTY!!  
photo  
I want at least 10 of them!! U hear???? 10!!  
ALSDJ;jklaijmfap

Reading through the messages makes a soft smile tug at his lips, a gentle laugh building in his throat at the photo of the small black cat looking at the camera with wide eyes, all the tension once tightening his every muscle bleeding away into the night to let him deflate. The excited string of texts which follows the picture helps make his chest feel a little lighter, the nervousness which once coated his lungs dispersing throughout his body to leave him at ease.

Shaking his head lightly he clicks off the texts and locks his phone with deft fingers, placing the device back on his bedside table before swiftly rolling over and closing his eyes. A faint smile graces his lips as he drifts off into unconsciousness, and instead of dreaming about pain dipped in blood, he dreams of soft kittens and a life without fear.

**

The second time it happens he’s sat in the kitchen, pushing a multitude of food around on his plate as the rest of his friends eat. His mind too far away to even think about eating something, the mere thought makes him want to throw up, stomach churning in discomfort.

It was silly to think that after just one night without being haunted by the things he’s done, the things he’s felt, that he wouldn’t have another one. Stupid to believe that he’d be able to sleep through the night without waking up feeling the ghost of hands on his skin and the smell of blood in his nose. Pathetic that he thinks that after everything he’s done that he deserves the comfort of sleep anyway.

The noise which faded into the background a while ago suddenly halts, his ears picking up on the deafening silence that drags his attention from his thoughts, eyebrows furrowing in concern as the world tilts and comes straight back into focus with a blink.

“What?” He questions with an inpatient growl as everyone’s eyes focus on him, their stares making him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Your phone” Natasha states, head inclining towards the device resting on the kitchen side, her ever observant eyes gauging his reaction until he feels her stare right down into his bones.

With a huff of breath, he stands from the table, chair pushing back with an almighty screech as he raises to his feet. Faded blue eyes locking on his phone which flashes to let him know he has a text message, the notification light making a hopeful flame light in the pit of his stomach as he moves towards it with soft footsteps.

Picking it up the starts of a small smile graces his features as he unlocks the device and looks upon the little red 3 which hovers above his messages icon. Clicking on the small icon he opens the chat with barley restrained eagerness.

'I am having trouble sleeping again.  
I mean it’s not like I’m not trying because I am, I promise I am. Its just that the thoughts won’t stop and sometimes it feels like my minds running on a loop and I just want it to stop.  
I just want to sleep, why can’t I sleep?'

His face positively drops at the string of messages, something sick swirling in the pit of his stomach because he knows what that’s like. He knows that on nights where sleep doesn’t come that the thoughts swirling on and endless loop chase it away, and he knows the utter desperation of wanting it to stop, of just wanting to be able to close your eyes and let the world fade away into the background for a few hours. He knows the pain that’s written into the words that light up his screen, he knows.

“You alright Buck?” The soft voice of his best friend wraps around his head and helps tame the distress currently running across his skin with invisible footprints.

His head raises slowly to meet Steve’s worried gaze, and the exhaustion that comes from never sleeping seems to bear its weight on his shoulders, the sheer weight of it making his shoulders slump and a devastating weariness coat his irises.

“Yeah Stevie I’m fine, m’gunna see if I can get my head down for bit though”

The words are a mere grumble, voice barley carrying through the air, but he knows that Steve hears him, and without another word he stalks out of the room with uncharacteristically heavy footfalls, phone safely clutched in his firm grip.

By the time he makes it back to his room he’s prepared to type out a reply to the messages sent to him. But looking down at his phone makes his blood curdle in his veins because would they even want him to reply? Would this random person want someone like him to offer comfort where it was not asked for?

With a dejected sigh he locks his phone and throws it down onto his bedside table, hands trembling slightly with an overwhelming amount of different feelings, each one different and tugging him in opposite directions, practically tearing him straight down the middle.

Exhausted, he’s so damn tired that the simple act of standing up is forcing his legs to shake. So, with minimal effort he sheds his clothes and drags his body under the covers to try and hopefully get some sleep tonight.

**

I know its 3am and you’re probably sleeping but I’ve been crying for the past hour and I swear to you I’ve never felt so alone.  
I feel like I’m falling apart at the seams and that I’m a failure to the people I love, they deserve so much more than what I can give them and I fucking hate that I’m so useless.  
Looking in the mirror makes me want to scream because half the time I don’t know who’s looking back at me anymore.  
You’re the only person I feel I can talk to, please message me back, I need you more than ever.

His eyes are watering by the time he gets to the end of the messages, blue eyes glassy and a pain so deep it rocks him to the very core. Heart trying to fight its way through his ribcage to help the broken person sat in tears at the other end of the phone. The words resonate with him so deeply that he feels the agony deeper than his bones, feels it rocking straight into his soul with a force that makes his whole-body quake.

The messages woke him from his restless sleep, movements slow and uncensored as he presses the call button and places the phone to his ear.

**

The feeling had been creeping over your shoulders quietly for a while, something unspoken and draining coiling itself around your neck until your choking and realising its too late to do anything other than let it run its course.

It started with the way it was beginning to get harder to get out of bed in the morning, almost like some anchor was tethering you to the soft sheets making it practically impossible to get up. But really what would be the point of getting up anyway? You’d only go through a miserable day filled with things that make you want to sob. You would only end up exhausted and teary eyed anyway, there would be no point of getting up and honestly you couldn’t find the effort anyway.

It carried on when you gazed upon your reflection in the mirror and it made you want to scream your throat raw because you were fucking disgusting no matter how much make up you put on. It didn’t make a difference to the chubbiness of your cheeks of the shape of your nose, sadly make up could hide everything.

You hit breaking point when you came to the realisation that you were convinced you’d be alone for the rest of your life. That no one would ever look at you and think that you were beautiful and that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with you. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life with you either, god you hated yourself so much.

And after all the build up you fell apart, hours upon hours of sobbing and screaming until your world cracked in half and left you raw and vulnerable and alone. Always alone, and maybe that’s what made you pick up the phone and beg your best friend to message you back so you weren’t on your own anymore.

The sharp and consistent sound which was your ringtone echoed through the teary haze which held you hostage, world muffled to your mind, head feeling like it was stuffed with cotton wool. Turning to the side slightly your fingers wrap around the device and swipe to answer.

“Hey” You rasp, throat sore and energy sliding along your fingers into thin air “Thanks for calling me, I’ve missed you”

There’s a deep silence which settles over the phone and its almost like your best friend isn’t breathing, but you don’t mind, they’re there and that’s all that matters, you’re not alone anymore.

“I think you’ve been texting the wrong number doll”

The sleep riddled voice of a man echoes through your ear and the breath in your lungs freeze because oh god, you’ve poured your heart out to a stranger, let all the thoughts and feelings which usually reside in the pit of your stomach out to fall on the shoulders of someone you didn’t even know.

“Oh my god” You whimper into the phone “I’m so, so sorry I should have checked the number, please ignore me and go back to sleep, I’m so sorry”

The words leave your lips in a guilty blur, dread coiling itself around your chest and making it increasingly difficult to breathe, air dragging its way down your throat to try and uncoil the feeling making you dizzy.

“Nah don’t be sorry sweetheart, I wanna make sure your alrigh’” His words are a welcome drawl to your ears, the roughness of his voice paired with the sluggishness of his tone start to lull you into a sense of peace “I know y’havent been feelin’ too good darlin’”

His words make you choke out a sob, tears burning harshly at the back of your eyes until they begin to stream down your cheeks, the warmth of them offering a sick sense of comfort against the cold air wrapping around your skin.

“I just didn’t want to be alone” You start quietly, inhaling a shuddering breath before you continue “I-I’m not asking you to chase away all my fears or anything, I just…stay on the phone with me? Please?”

Selfish you yell angrily to yourself, asking this man to stay on the phone with you so you don’t feel lonely. What about him? Its three in the morning and you’re begging this stranger to sacrifice his sleep for someone like you? Pathetic.

“Course I’ll stay on the phone with you darlin’ He states softly, breath whispering through the phone as you listen to the sounds of him moving around.

“What’s your name?”

Your words seem to stun him into silence. So, you take the opportunity to move through your apartment and get into bed, the warmth of your sheets cocooning your body as you shift around to find a comfortable position, phone still pressed tightly against your ear.

“James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky”

His voice appears hesitant and you realise why the moment his name registers in your mind and you connect the dots within a few heartbeats, James Buchanan Barnes. The world seems to fall from beneath your feet as the realisation that you’re currently on the phone to an avenger slams into you full force.

But you must have been silent for too long because Bucky’s voice rings out through the speaker again.

“If you want me to go then I will, y’don’t have to feel bad about it I promise I don’t mind”

“No, god no please don’t go. I was just surprised that I managed to text you instead of my best friend, I was beginning to wonder why she never replied” You laugh softly through the phone, the weight crushing your ribs starting to ease.

His responding chuckle makes you smile “What’s your name then sweetheart?” He questions muffling a yawn.

“(Y/N)” You say quietly with a slow breath, inhaling deeply to calm your mind further.

As the seconds tick by your eyelids become heavier and heavier, sleep calling you from the depths of your mind. Body spent and utterly exhausted after your breakdown. You yawn groggily into the receiver whilst burrowing down into your covers.

“Thankyou” You mention sleepily before he can reply “Thanks for calling me, you didn’t have to, I mean its three in the morning you could have just ignored me. This really means a lot to me Buck”

“Its not a problem (Y/N), I don’t sleep much anyway”

“Could you maybe stay on the phone till I fall asleep?”

The request sounds absurd to your ears and the pitiful jump your heart gives after you’ve uttered the words make you sick. The apology building in your throat never leaves your lips as Bucky speaks.

“Of course doll, m’close to fallin asleep too y’know”

You laugh gently in response, humour dying down as sleep tugs at your brain, unconsciousness a welcome feeling to your tired body, limbs all but boneless beneath the covers. You couldn’t stay awake for longer even if you tried.

“G’night Bucky”

“Goodnight (Y/N)”

Under the watchful eye of the moonlight you both drift off into your own dreams. Both of you remaining peaceful and undisturbed whist the world carries on turning as you sleep. And for the longest time Bucky manages to get through the entire night without so much of a twitch. And you sleep away the emotions that drowned you, one phrase circling through your mind.

Wrong number, right time.

**

**Author's Note:**

> Hi All!! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!!
> 
> Stay safe my darlings <3
> 
> xx


End file.
